Only The Lonely (Know The Way I Feel)
by thejeweloftherealm
Summary: It only takes a single moment to change your life. After years shut off from anyone else, Killian Jones, a reclusive florist on the outskirts of town, starts to see a little more warmth in the world again. ONE-SHOT


**So I wrote this (not particularly fluffy) fic for miss-maximoff on tumblr, as part of the CS Secret Valentines! She wanted a florist!Killian and tattoo-artist!Emma fic, but I only managed the former. Either way, I hope you all enjoy this! (And thanks to BlackDragon733 for reading it through)**

* * *

**Only The Lonely (Know The Way I Feel)**

He wakes to the colour white and a constant, repetitive beeping and it takes a moment to remember what happened and figure out where he is.

And he guesses he's in the hospital - with each second he's awake, he gets more flashes of losing control, the car skidding - but he feels fine, and all he can think of is how did he get here and who found him, because there's no one who would worry if he didn't make it back home.

"You're awake." He doesn't recognise the voice, but when he looks up, he knows the speaker. Not well - they've never spoken - but he remembers her speech in the town hall when she ran for Sheriff. He remembers because he went to see his friend - he doesn't know if friend is the right word, but they speak occasionally - David Nolan run for the position, but he was too idealistic. There had been some bitterness in the way the woman spoke and presented herself that somehow made her promises to the town and it's people feel more real.

He had voted for her.

"Did you find me?" he asks.

"I did." she answers, an unexpected smile gracing her face when she looks down at him. "I was on patrol and I saw your car. I have to tell you, you're surprisingly fine considering the state of your vehicle."

"And why are you here now?"

The Sheriff looks almost embarrassed, as if he's caught her doing something wrong. "No one knew your name. No one knew you." she admits. "I didn't want you to wake up by yourself and not know what had happened."

He doesn't know what to say, because he didn't expect that. Not the lack of recognition - he knows he keeps to himself - but the fact that she stayed with him, even though she doesn't even know his name.

"I'm Killian." he offers, and she frowns at him. "Just in case I crash again and I need someone to identify me, it's probably helpful for the Sheriff to know my name."

"Do you crash often?" She looks like she's stifling a smile and it's beautiful, and then she bites her lip and looks away, and he wonders if maybe this conversation is as strange for her as it is for him. "Anyway, I was only staying until you woke up. You can pretty much leave whenever. The doctors couldn't find anything wrong with you, other than a few scrapes and bruises."

She reaches out, and for a second he panics because it looks like she might touch his face, might brush her thumb across one of his new injuries and be _gentle _with him in a way he hasn't experienced in what feels like a lifetime, and he's just thinking _what is she doing_, but she doesn't do that - of course she doesn't. All she's doing is gesturing towards him, towards the scrapes and bruises she had spoken of.

"I can drive you home, if you want." she suggests, and he still doesn't know her name. "As the Sheriff, that's something I do. Besides, I doubt you'll ever drive that car again."

"You'd do that?"

And after he checks out of the hospital, he climbs into her car - a yellow bug, not a police car - and directs her back to his home, twenty minutes out of town, and if his hands clench into fists when she turns corners or brakes, she doesn't say a thing.

* * *

He never retrieves the car. It was Milah's, from before she passed away, and it's strange enough not having it parked in his driveway. He doesn't want to see it mangled and crushed, because it was the last thing of hers he hadn't angrily stuffed into a box and hid in the attic, but now that it's gone, he's not sure he wants it back.

So he leaves it.

He has a truck of his own, one he uses for flower deliveries into Storybrooke, but for the first few days after his crash, he decides to spend his time sorting through Milah's things and deciding what to give away and what to keep.

Because maybe the car crash is a sign that he really should let go.

He keeps one of her sketchbooks and a dusty framed photo of the two of them when they had finished decorating their house, when they made the cabin and it's greenhouses into their home.

Everything else, he packs into the back of his truck. But when he goes to drive into town, to give them away, he can't bring himself to open the door.

And it's not because of Milah. It's time for him to do this, and it feels right, but he remembers losing control of the steering wheel, and he doesn't want to drive.

Not today.

* * *

It turns out that it's very easy to not leave his house, what with shops delivering food and David promising to deliver his flower arrangements into town for him.

And so two weeks go by without him seeing anyone, and it's boring and lonely and _easy _and he tells himself he's happy alone, when the truth is that he can't motivate himself enough to get in his car and _fix _himself, and it's easier to stay inside and pretend that it's his car stopping him from socialising.

Except he knows he's been like this for longer than two weeks, but now he has a reason that David doesn't question when he refuses to leave the house.

When the doorbell rings, it takes a moment for him to realize what the sound is. Because there is no one who would visit him, other than David, and David doesn't ring the bell, he punches the door until Killian has to get up and let him in and stop the noise.

It's curiosity that sends him to the door, and he opens it to see Sheriff Swan standing on his porch, and she's worrying her hands together and she looks just as nervous as he feels.

"Afternoon." she greets, and he nods cautiously. "I figured I'd check in. I _had _hoped to see you around town, but I decided it might be better to just show up and surprise you."

"Check in?"

"I like to follow up with everyone I have to escort home." she explains, and he's still confused and unsure why she's there because _surely _this is out of her way. "Granted, they tend not to be sober, but still, I'm not going to change protocol because of different circumstances."

And he doesn't really think about her words, because he feels strangely warm at the idea that she's actually sought him out, and she looks so unsure that he can't help but smile weakly at her and invite her in for a cup of tea.

"I'm Emma, by the way." she states as she steps through the threshold into his home.

There's not been a woman in his home since Milah, and he feels lighter when Emma's standing next to him in his kitchen and watching him boil the kettle and rummage for tea bags. He tells himself that it's nice just to have someone _there_, even if they're not talking and she's only here because it's her job.

"I haven't seen you in town." she says once she's got the hot drink in her hand and is settled at his kitchen table. He's across from her, watching the way she blows the steam off the tea, cups the mug in both hands and holds it just below her chin. "Have you driven since your accident?"

"I haven't wanted to." Killian replies, and she nods. And for a second, he thinks she might _understand_. "I don't need to. My work is here."

"Your work? What do you do?"

He doesn't answer, but when they're finished with the tea, he lends her gloves and a scarf - and if she nuzzles into the wool of the scarf and sighs, he pretends not to notice - and leads her to his greenhouse.

Even when they're there, he still doesn't speak, he just watches her walk among the flowers and run her fingers gently across the leaves and the petals, and she looks almost enamored, and this is one of the reasons he arranges flowers for a living, because even if they don't bring much joy to him anymore, they bring happiness to others.

Making Emma smile like that is reason enough, but that's too much, so he leaves her alone in the greenhouse and let's the cold air bite at him until she's ready to go back to his home.

"They're nice." she says simply, once they're back inside. "Do you supply Game of Thorns in town? I buy orchids there sometimes. Are they yours?"

A nod is answer enough, and she ducks her head and worries her hands together and the silence becomes almost too much.

"Maybe I should go. I've taken up enough of your time." she suggests, and now that she might be leaving, he's reluctant for her to go and for him to find himself alone once again.

He doesn't feel like himself when he mentions his plans to turn on the fire and watch The Princess Bride - it's on tv, so why not? - and she tilts her head in a silent question, and he feels the words escape him before he even knows what he's going to say.

"It's a good film, if you want to stay."

And he feels so awkward because she's here and she's just staring at him and this isn't him, because he doesn't spend time with people, but he _wants_ her to stay with him, because now she's been here, he's reluctant for the house to be empty again.

"I've seen it before." she says eventually - and of course she has - but then she shrugs. "But it is a good film, and I'm off-duty for the rest of today. Are you sure?"

He's not _sure_, but she's said yes.

So they sit on his sofa, flames crackling in the fireplace, both of them leaning on their respective ends of the sofa, and the distance between them seems insurmountable, but she's there and she's mouthing the words alongside the film, and he keeps turning to look at her, to see if she's enjoying the film, to see her laugh when Westley tells Fezzik to dream of large women, when the word 'Mawwiage' echoes through the room, and then he's watching her more than the film, and even though they aren't speaking, having her there keeps away the emptiness he always feels.

He thinks he's happy by himself until he's _not _anymore, because having someone in the house with him is different and whatever he called happiness before is muted compared to the simple pleasure he feels with her easy, question-free company.

* * *

She visits often. Killian starts to expect her around the end of her shift - she texts him everyday when she'll be finished at the station. They watch films, they start 'The Good Wife' - and they're only two seasons through, but Emma has more opinions on the show than he has time to listen to, but he tries to hear them all anyway - and after she joins him one night for dinner, that becomes routine too. He can only heat up tinned soup without a disaster, but Emma doesn't seem to mind - she says it's better than eating alone.

And he knows she understands, even though they never discuss it. He knows she feels the same gnawing loneliness that consumes him, the isolation he's too scared to break free from, but when she's there, it's not present. He had always thought it was easier to be lonely, but being with Emma is effortless - it's warm and comforting even when they don't talk.

Except some days, the tv is just background noise as they discuss mundane things, like the weather or the falling crime-rate in town, and she sits beside him on the sofa now, not curled towards the opposite arm.

And when she surprised him at the weekend with the entire collection of Harry Potter films, they watched the full eight movies in silence but spent hours talking about her childhood afterwards, and he _knows_ her now. Not all of her, but he likes what he does know and he wants to know more.

After three weeks, he's used to her being with him. The days are as lonely as ever, but he enjoys the alone time when he knows it won't last. It doesn't feel so overwhelming when he can see an end to it.

So, when she texts him one day with an apology and a promise to see him tomorrow, telling him she's swamped with work and won't be out of the station until a ridiculous hour, he considers going to her.

And he gets outside, and he rests his head against the cool window of his truck, but he doesn't get in the vehicle.

Except it's not because he's remembering the crash anymore. He just worries that maybe she won't want him visiting her in town, maybe she won't _like_ him in town, because he knows her well enough to know she's as anxious as him when it comes to whatever relationship they have and it's easy at his home, but maybe it won't be the same anywhere else.

And he's afraid to lose what they have.

So he stays at home.

* * *

The next day, she surprises him in the middle of the afternoon. He's working, caring for the orchids, grooming them with delicate touches, and he doesn't even notice she's there until he looks up to see her leaning against the wall and watching him.

"It's pretty." she says quietly, and his hands pause and he just looks at her. "Beautiful, even."

And he remembers what she told him on her first visit - that she bought them occasionally - and he likes the thoughts that she has his flowers decorating her home, making her smile that brilliant, gorgeous smile that he adores.

She doesn't say any more, just watches him.

And he wants to thank her because she's brought something back to his life that he didn't realise he'd lost - that he still can't identify, but knows he's found - and it's the first time in years that he's found something he prefers to being alone.

He's still scared that outside his home it won't be the same, but he's been scared for a long time and he's realising that Emma is more than worth the risk, because what they have is amazing, but he thinks it could be more, and it could wonderful and it could be _everything_, and it can't be only a 'check-in' anymore, because it's everyday.

She comes back and that's more than he can say for anyone else.

* * *

And it's three months since the hospital when he gets in his truck and starts the engine, when he drives - slowly - into Storybrooke and parks by the Sheriff's Station. He sees her through the window, and she's just as beautiful in town as she is at his home - not that he thought that would change - and he's taking it as a sign that maybe everything else will be the same even if the location is different.

He picks up the orchid carefully and makes his way inside, stopping in the doorway when she looks up and sees him and _smiles_. And he smiles back, and he feels lighter here, away from the oppressive emptiness of his home.

"Is that for me?" she asks, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and speaking confidently, louder than she ever has at his home, and he can feel himself grinning wider than he has in a very, very long time. "Because it's absolutely gorgeous."

"It's for you, love." he says, scratching behind his ear nervously. "As a thank you for keeping me company, even if it's just to check in with the guy who no one else knows."

She takes the potted plant from him, carries it through to the small office that he knows belongs to her and places it on her desk, on display for her and anyone visiting, and then she brushes her finger along the petals the way she had when he showed her the greenhouse, and he figures that no matter what happens, she's worth the risk.

Because he's lost everything before, and survived, but he's never had this _potential_ before and he would rather have nothing and know that he tried than spend his life in this comfortable but unending limbo that they've found themselves in.

"Did you drive here?" she asks, and she's looking excited and he doesn't know why, but when he nods, she beams at him and steps closer, runs her hands up his arms until both hands are resting on his bicep and they've never been this close, but he likes it. "Because I have to admit, I've been waiting to see you drive again. I had silly romantic dreams of you picking me up at my door."

"Picking you up?" he questions, and she looks terrified - he knows terrified - because that's something she wouldn't usually say, and he wonders if maybe he makes her feel more open the same way she makes him feel more alive. "For what?"

"For a date?" she whispers, and his breath catches and he stares at her, the way she's worrying her hands together like the first time she had shown up on his doorstep, and a slow, thrilled grin spreads across his face.

And she's used to him answering with actions instead of words, so he bends down and presses a light kiss to her cheek, enjoying how she blushes and smiles up at him. "See you tonight."

She calls out her address when he leaves.

* * *

He finds her apartment with ease - and as strange as it feels to be dressed up and hiding a rose behind his back, he's excited. And he wants to see her, and he wants to experience this new thing with her, a date, and he's shuffling nervously from foot to foot when she opens the doors and takes his breath away.

He hadn't even thought about what it would be like to see her dressed up and excited to go out with _him_ and it sends a thrill through him that he wasn't expecting. And when he holds out the rose, she takes a step back, stunned.

"No orchid?" she asks, taking the rose from him gently, her free hand toying with edges of the petals. "You know I like orchids."

"And you told me you had silly romantic dreams of me picking you up at the door. I figured giving you a rose might make it even better." he says, but the nerves have come back. He shouldn't have brought a rose - orchids were safe, orchids were beautiful, roses were cliché and he and Emma weren't a cliché. "But it was a stupid idea. I shouldn't have-"

She cuts him off with a shake of her head and a press of her lips to his cheek. "I love it. Just let me find a vase for it and then we can go." She darts off and he takes a careful step into her apartment. It's brighter than his home, more open and airy and he likes it.

But then the rose is displayed proudly on her table and she's slipping her arm through his and he's leading her back down the stairs to his truck to take her on a date, and when he woke up to her all those months ago, he would never have expected this, but he's so unfamiliarly happy with how things have turned out.

* * *

He takes her to an Italian restaurant he remembers from before he shut himself off, one he regularly supplied with a variety of small arrangements for the tables, and she looks so happy when he pulls the chair out for her, when he sits opposite her and gestures for the wine.

It's a new scenario for them, but each moment with her makes him less scared that things will change now that they're doing _this_, that they won't be as comfortable and understanding when others are there to watch and judge them.

But she reaches across the table to take both of his hands in hers, and the touch is new, another unfamiliar feeling that he had forgotten until he felt her skin soft against his, and he smiles at her, and she returns the smile, but the curl of her lips is new and mischievous and alluring and he loves this, with her, and he doesn't know how it happened.

"What sort of sheriff routine do you think involves visiting someone at their home daily?" she asks, and he hears a teasing lilt to her voice and in the months since they started their companionship, he's never dwelt on the reason she first visited, but now that she's brought it up, he realises how thin an excuse it is.

"What are you saying?" he murmurs, and the restaurant may be busy, but all he can see and hear is her.

"I just," She looks anxious, and he hates that but he wants to know. Because she's like him, and if it wasn't routine, then he understands just how brave it was for her to reach out and come to him, when she had no reason to. "I thought you seemed lonely. The way I was lonely. No one even knew your _name_, Killian."

"I have my brother." he protests defensively, because she came to see him out of _pity_, but then he looks more carefully at her, and all he sees is understanding. "Not that we talk anymore."

"And I have my mother, well, adoptive mother." she says, and these are the topics they've avoided until now, about the people that abandoned them, that chose to leave them alone. "Ingrid and I don't speak now either."

They don't go into any more detail, but she already knows more about him than anyone, and if he's right, he's the first she's trusted with such information as well.

She swallows and her hands tighten around his. "I saw you at the hospital, the way no one there cared about you. I just, I thought that if you were like me…. well, I didn't want you to take the crash as an excuse to withdraw further. To put up more walls."

"You didn't even know me." he murmurs, and he's so _happy_ that she dared to reach out and try to connect with him that his voice is choked.

"But I knew me."

* * *

When he kisses her outside her apartment, it feels like promises and new starts and he should have known weeks before, when she appeared on his doorstep and stayed with him when he asked, but better late than never.


End file.
